


Random Word Generator

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9361259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: A bunch of Murderface mini-fics via a random word generator.





	

[Hospital]

He only went to the hospital once or twice while Dethklok was starting up. It was expensive and even Magnus didn't have any kind of insurance. The only time he did go was when he almost died from an alcohol overdose. Maybe because he tried to outdrink Pickles that night, or maybe it was the depression that came from losing, causing him to drink even more. Regardless, he was tiny and getting sick and shaking and clammy. He came out of it alive, with Magnus standing over him in bed, completely silent.

 

[Decontamination]

No matter how many times he thought of it, he still felt dirty. the way Magnus put his arms around his throat and slammed him into the bedsheets. And he wanted to scrub those feelings away in the shower, though the harder he rubbed, the more it made his skin burn. Nowadays he just turns the water on as hot as possible, hoping it'll burn him alive.

 

[Bag]

He shrugged, reaching into the pink gift bag. Toki was grinning at his own hand-made card. It read, in shoddy handwriting, "Merry Christmas to my favorite bass player". The gift was a taxidermy chicken that honestly, Murderface could already see before opening the bag. It didn't fit properly, it was too big. Regardless, he thanked Toki for his present, only to find that below the dead chicken was a living one, a little baby just chillin' out. He almost wanted to say Christmas wasn't so bad.

 

[Downhill]

"Man, your life sure is going downhill." That was a sentence he heard Genevieve De Merode say to him in high school. Staring at his crappy bass guitar and plucking a few chords, he wrinkled his nose, and said with confidence, "No it ain't!", but in the end he knew that was a lie. He had just hit an all-time low, and as much as he felt like things couldn't get any worse, he knew nothing better than taking a shovel and digging himself deeper into his own grave.

 

[Heaviest] 

Maxie Carmichael was the heaviest kid in William's grade. However, the fact that it was all muscle mass made him less of a joke and more of a man to be feared. William wasn't sure if people actually liked him or if they were just terrified of him, because at the very least, he had a reason to be fucking scared.

 

[Jewel]

The choker fit around his throat perfectly. He wondered if Charles had gotten it custom-made. A thick, black choker with a moonstone embossed on the front, in the shape of a teardrop. It was shiny and reflected all the light that fell below his chin. Glimmering and creating dancing shapes of light on his ceiling and his face, he decided it was his favorite birthday present that year -- mostly because it was the only one he got.

 

[Conclusion]

Even though everything was over, Murderface still felt all fucked up inside. Even though all of the bad stuff was gone he still felt it, way deep within his body. He met up with Abigail and Toki in the yard, and they all laid around together. Three people all fucked up and depressed, and there was never any end to that.

 

[Energy]

Sometimes Murderface would wake up in the middle of the night with wild amounts of energy. He'd run to the recording room to do his bass parts, fueled by the sudden urge to just do something, and that was the only time he felt like he played well. Because he didn't have stupid Nathan there telling him to re-do the parts, the way he wanted them. He'd just record whatever the fuck he wanted, and it'd sound great. Then he'd shuffle back off to bed and pass out, only to find them deleted the next morning.

 

[Biological]

Mrs. Geller, his teacher, always said it was biologically normal for boys to fall in love with girls. All through his school years he wondered if there was something wrong with him, or maybe if some of his classmates secretly WERE girls. But as the years went on, he found himself curled up in bed next to Magnus Hammersmith, legs spread and lips parted. He realized he was just a biological outlier.

 

[Fiasco]

Murderface's life just had a way of making things go wrong all at once. It was the worst fucking Christmas he'd ever forced himself through. Strangled by a priest, scolded, injured, he felt like fucking garbage all the way down to his core. Dick offered him a drink, and he took it, allowing himself to become malleable, sobbing, emotional putty beside him, only to forget it the next day.

 

[Hideaway]

He always made sure Powdered Toast Man, his python, was safe when they went out. After awhile he dug out his very own secret hideout in the junkyard. He took her there with whatever Hideshi Hino comic he wanted to read that day, and sat within the dirty abyss, protected amongst the piles of trash and debris.

 

[Paralysis]

Jamie Harper was paralyzed from the legs-down. He was also, really, the only person William ever talked to while he was in school. Not because they had any common interests, moreso because they were both outcasts. Though, after awhile, people began to see past Jamie's disability and invited them back into human society. Which would be fine, except William's only disability was that he had an awful personality, and he remained off on the sidelines by himself.

 

[Silence]

"Shh." Everyone always liked to cut him off in conversation. After awhile Murderface just stopped saying things. One day, Nathan said, "what do you think?" and he froze. He was quiet. He was absolutely silent, because never before, not once in his life had asked for his opinion. He choked on his spit, and said, "Nothing". He hadn't let himself have an opinion in a very, very long time.

 

[Humility]

A lot of people told William how modest he was throughout his life. They said it was a good thing, a wonderful thing. He was so virtuous and selfless and didn't sit in front of a mirror in a state of vanity all day long. That wasn't it at all. William wasn't modest, he just fucking hated himself. There was a big, big, big difference.

 

[Prank]

The only date William was ever asked on was a prank date. He should have known, since Elsie Jones had a boyfriend. An older guy who was going to college already. William would always insist he'd treat her better than that guy, but the truth was, he probably didn't even know how. And when he thought about it, that probably meant he deserved to get asked on a prank date. Besides, one of her friends, Gillian Barker, said the dude was going into business. He'd make enough money to make Willy's whole life look like a 15-year-long joke.

 

[Complicated]

Murderface considered his relationship with Skwisgaar complicated. The guy was an asshole and he fucking hated him, but at the same time he sure as hell couldn't forget his years as a scrawny 17-year-old who was madly in love with the guy. They fought and they argued all the time, but Murderface was still in love, and he hated that even more than he hated Skwisgaar himself.

 

[Abuse]

"What you had with Magnus was an abusive relationship", Pickles said after reading like, one book about it. Murderface hated the term. He was never abused, right? Even if he was victimized and injured and Magnus always made him feel like garbage, that wasn't abuse, right? Because it was all his fault. It was his own fault he was so stupid.

 

[Jade]

Pickles and Nathan both had the most beautiful green eyes. Murderface found himself getting jealous over it once a day. Finally finding himself sandwiched between the two in bed, he got to see them up close, the way they shined under lamplight, the way they tightened as Pickles laughed watching Murderface shakily crawl out of his clothes, the way they darkened as Nathan stood against the light, staring at him like he actually meant something.

 

[Disintegration]

The enamel on his teeth had disintegrated because of his vomiting problem. It was embarrassing hearing a doctor say it. His bandmates didn't even know, and on the car ride home he got one hell of a lecture from Pickles. It was his fault he was fat and ugly and he just wanted to fix it already.

 

[Legendary]

Apparently Skwisgaar was considered 'legendary' in his home country of Sweden. No matter how hard Murderface tried, he couldn't copy the bass parts Skwisgaar wrote for him. He realized he'd never be as great as the other, and just gave up. Nobody could hear him playing anyway. But on one of their albums, Skwisgaar insisted, and he spent all night teaching Murderface the bassline, because he wanted to hear Murderface play on that album. And for once he felt like a legend, too.

 

[Grunting]

Genevieve De Merode said William reminded her of a pig. Gillian Barker said William reminded her of a bulldog. Elsie Jones said William reminded her of a cow. Mary Larsen said William reminded her of a donkey. Caroline Shelton said William reminded her of a pug. Regardless, William was evocative of stupid animals that grunted, and that was all he'd ever be known for.

 

[Bench]

He couldn't sleep. It was cold and he was only wrapped in his jacket, laying on a wooden bench in the park. He wanted to go back to his room where it was warm and comfy, but the door was locked and grandma had no intention of letting him in tonight. He wasn't sure what would kill him first: the cold, or the exhaustion.

 

[Guts]

He had an addiction to viscera and horror. He just wanted to kill himself in the most elaborate, amazing, gruesome way possible. He didn't know why he wouldn't just go through with it. Was it scary, or did he feel like there was someone who might miss him?

 

[Sweet]

He loved sweet cocktails. Bitter drinks made him sick. Of course, sweet ones did too, but it was less because of the flavor and more because of the alcohol content. He wanted to get drunk, but what he didn't want was to fucking hate it the whole way through. And of course, Magnus knew how to make the best daiquiris he could possibly fucking ask for. Perfect strawberry flavoring mixed with liquor created the greatest drug he'd ever wanted.

 

[Aim]

His fingers tightened around the trigger, barrel in his mouth. He was shaking and he was afraid, but he wanted to die, oh man, he wanted to die. He fired, but then realized, with tears budding in his eyes that he had moved his head out of the way and completely missed, instead blasting a hole in his wall.

 

[Mushroom]

He was proud of not being friends with Dr. Rockso, but what he was less proud of was sharing drugs with the guy. Sometimes they'd just sit in his room experiencing the overbearing senses while on shrooms, or chilling out with blunts in their hands. While hallucinating, once, Murderface made the mistake of saying he didn't hate him.

 

[Hustle]

He couldn't get his shit together fast enough. He was moving at light speed. Eating his cereal dry, and slipping into the same clothes he wore the day before. His books hardly left his backpack, thankfully, so he hardly had to worry about getting ready. But despite all of this, and as fast as he ran, the bus still left without him seemingly every morning.

 

[Blackmail]

"You might as well do what I say. I could always tell your bandmates what you're like when we're alone." He didn't want people to know. He didn't want them to know he'd beg for Magnus every night, guzzling down his seed like a back-alley whore, letting himself be used, bruised, loving it, fucking worshiping the feeling. He hated that side of him. So what Magnus wanted, Magnus got, and William would give it to him.

 

[Implant]

Murderface found it hard to believe that Serveta's tits were real, but they certainly were. Not a single part of her body was synthetic, not even her thick, bee-stung lips. Though, the one fake part she used in bed was the strap-on he took from behind. It was great, and he refused to ever do it with her again.

 

[Bake]

Pickles would make pot brownies from time to time. Murderface had a low tolerance, and often he'd end up drooling in Pickles' lap, laughing about absolutely nothing. Pickles was more than happy to take care of him. Even if it was kinda gay.

 

[Dominant]

He had no idea Toki was inherently more dominant in bed, but he certainly didn't complain. It felt like old times. A nostalgic sensation, only this time he wasn't being insulted and yelled at and generally just feeling like garbage. Dominant, yes, but Toki was still one of the nicest people Murderface had ever gotten in contact with.

 

[Green]

Murderface owned a green tie, and he wore it with his suit to impress Abigail. She laughed, but had no other interest in him. He wanted to know why, he was trying so damn hard and he just wanted to know why she'd never like him. "I know you're just trying to hook up with me for appearances. Why don't you just be yourself?" Biting his lip, he thought for a moment. Nathan popped into his head and his heart skipped a beat, and Abigail, immediately reading his expression, could tell he finally caught on.

 

[Sharp]

The razor he held in his hand was red, and sharp, and he figured just one more cut would do. But days later, when Charles held his arm and gently rubbed across each scar, examining each and every one, he suddenly wished he had just killed himself instead. And then a minute after that, Charles said, "If you need help, please talk to someone." And Murderface could have sworn he saw emotion in his eyes, and then wished he had just bottled up his emotions. But the past was the past, and he instead just stood there, allowing Charles to draw him in for an embrace.


End file.
